Apartment hunting in New York is arguably one of the most daunting, frustrating, unjust chores in the world. Wallets are left abused by countless, sleazy brokers and unnecessary loads of paper pushing. But with a little bit of luck and creative foresight (with some help from a Swedish broker, no less), this white, too sterile, echo-y apartment was just right.

Photos: Rasmus Keger, Words by: Janelle Flores

Like most newly-domesticated ladies and gents, we circled the space with dizzying delight. Just like kids, we hopped from room to room, pen and paper in hand, arms flailing about. Where will the bookshelves go? The clock? Rasmus’s music desk? Janelle’s reading nook?

Still modestly sized by the world’s standards, the empty walls felt gigantic compared to the box that housed us just before moving. At last. We’re not playing “house” anymore.